


The Stranger

by Cheshire_Cat_Issaros



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: A Stranger - Freeform, Death, F/M, Multi, Valar Morghulis, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-10 04:11:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14729711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheshire_Cat_Issaros/pseuds/Cheshire_Cat_Issaros
Summary: So this is set somewhere in season 8. Winterfell is destroyed by the army of the dead. And all the North is camping somewhere in the Riverlands. Arya and Gendry are getting married and Sansa is feeling extremely lonely.





	1. The cold bitter night

The snow fell silently upon the bride and groom. Around them was total and eerie darkness.  
"Father, maiden, crown" they where saying in a quiet but determined voice. Against the cold and death that surrounded them. The maestor stood over them taller than either binding their hands in cloth. For once Arya actually looked beautiful Sansa thought. Not that she wasn't pretty. But actually beautiful, in a way that would turn mens faces. She was smiling, her eyes full of love and trust, staring up at Gendry.  
Sansa tried to hold back her tears, for this was a wonderful evening. But she had to turn away as the couple kissed.  
She could see Bran staring at her from the corners of her eye. He was staring at her with his now all knowing gaze. There was mistrust in those eyes. as well mockery.  
Wiping her eyes on her sleeve she turned to Jon and Deanarys. They stood together to the right of the Maestor. There was something about Deanarys Sansa didn't like but she swallowed it, as she had swallowed everything these days.  
Arya and Gendry began walking down the path. Away from the the clearing and down towards the camp. Arya had refused to wear a white winter dress and instead wore a black wollen gown. It suited her well though. Gundry walked beside her holding her hand in his. At a turn in the path Gendry lifted her up in his arms, amidst a loud rupture of aplause and the procession quickened out from the snow and wind and into the fire lit camps.  
Sansa found herself alone once more that day. As everyone followed the bride and groom noobody seemed to notice her, not even Jon. A pang of lonliness cut through her heart. She was alienated from them, different somehow. And they never seemed to let her in.  
She slowed her walk as to be left further behind. Lonely and cold as it was, it felt better to be here alone with her thoughts than to be with them and be ignored. She sat down on a large rock and stared at the stars. Did her mother feel like this she thought. When Robb was fighting the war of the five kings. Nobody seemed to remeber her mother that much. She would brush her hair ever so softly, her fingers gently trailing through her tresses. Petyr had once done that. She had fallen asleep in the carriage they had been travelling in. And she had dimly felt that same soft gentle caress from him.  
She shivred remebering him. His eyes, his tears. That man emotions rarely met his eyes, mostly staying at his mouth, but that day he weeped. And she had done it, and done it all for them. She would never have done it otherwise. Yet somehow that wasn't good enough.  
Music had started somewhere below, and she could here the loud brawly tones of the Bear and the Maiden Fair.  
"The Stag and the Wolf" she thought, "No, The Wolf and the Stag." Somehow the wolf had to come first.  
"Oh, come they said, come to the fair" yelled a voice above all the rest.  
"The stag the stag and the wolf so rare" She rhymed it in her head.  
There was a snap behind her and Sansa spun round.  
Nothing.  
She peered into the darkeness and it was all empty. Nothing stirred. Sansa shivred, remebering Arya's story of Nymeria and her merry pack of wolves.  
But if it really was Nymeria she wouldnt hurt her. Sansa was one of the Stark pack after all.  
Another pang of pain exploded in her chest as she thought of how her human pack had been treating her of late. What was to stop this wolf from tearing her up to pieces.  
She shivered and turned back to the camp. Walking faster this time and glancing up into the trees. If worst came to worst she would have to climb up something and stay there until someone realised in the morning that she wasn't around.  
"If worst came to worst I'll be dead" She thought.  
You shouldn't run with wolves. They will take that as an invitation to run you down. Sansa remembered. If of course they where wolves i those woods she would have walk backwards facing it all the way. If it was something else though. Sansa picked up a stick and started walking back to the camp at a fast pace. Looking behind her every few seconds.  
At last stumbling into the camp the silence of the woods became a deafening roar of music and laughter. Most prominent being the flutes and pipes as the smallfolk believed they scared away the Other. The biggest celebration that the Northeners had had for a long time had began..  
Jorah Mormont sat at the entrance of the camp. A mug of ale in one hand. The other hand (his sword hand) was wrapped in soft linen and tied to his side.  
"Lady Stark" He called as she aproached. Wincing, he got up and smiled at her. He was a kind man. Sansa noted. Painfully kind, and loyal.  
"Mormont" She said returning the smile.  
His eyes where red and he had been crying. If the gods where mercifull he would have died in the flames of Winterfell. But they where not. And now he had to continue living, and watching Deanarys and Jon Snow. She loved he for that. For his die hard loyalty against all odds. It was something she could never have.  
"The Princess and groom are heading to the riverside. I heard they where to set there tent there." he said looking at her enquiringly. "Are you all right my Lady?"  
"Fine," She answered with a smile. "I just wish to walk by myself a little. There where some noises in the woods though. Please keep a sharp vigil"  
"Of couse My Lady"  
The camp was lit by a hundred fires lending everything a warm orange glow. It was warmer here than in the clearing. A cosy warm. Sansa shivered feeling her unease slowly fade. She had not felt so warm for a long time.  
She walked through the camp listening to all the merriment around her. Next to an old rugged tent a woman sat singing A Dornishmans wife. Her hair was thick and wavy. And fair, which contasted well with her dark skin. She sang for a group of lovers under a tree. She turned to Sansa and gazed at her lovingly.

For what does it matter,  
All men must die!  
And I've tasted the Dornishmans Wife,  
I have, I've tasted the Dornishmans wife!

Then with a gentle motion of her hands she blew Sansa a kiss. Sansa blushed and smiled. She had been mesmerized by the womans beauty and her kiss had caught her of guard. Not knowing what to do she bowed slightly and turned away. Now that the woman no longer sang Sansa could hear a gentle lullaby flowing through the air.  
Behind a the tent two children sat together. The Boy was the singer singing the Song of the Seven as he sharpend his dagger.  
A girl sat beside him listening intensly.

The Seven Gods who made us all,  
are listening if we should call.

So close your eyes, you shall not fall,  
they see you, little children.

Just close your eyes, you shall not fall,  
they see you, little children.

"Wait" she cried. "That can't be the end!"  
"Why not?" Said the boy.  
"There was no verse for the Stranger"  
"Ssh" the boy said startled at the girls openess.  
"Nobody sings of the-" He lowered his voice to a whisper,"Stranger. He is the god of death. It can't be put into a lullaby!"  
"That's stupid" said the girl.  
Sansa smiled as she was reminded of Arya.  
"In Lorath, we worship the Stranger as the god of new beginings. Of twists in our stories and savior from monotony.  
He is the god of change, and there is nothing wrong with that."  
Sansa stood there in the corner listening to them. A breeze blew across her face. It had a sharp smell, of spices and flowers.  
"Issaros is his name in High Valyrian" The girl said with a smirk  
"SSHH," Said the boy in rising horror.  
"You Westerosi are barbarians," said a voice behind Sansa. A voice like flowing wine. "You are scared of anything you can't put a sword through"


	2. The Warm Bed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaqen H'ghar does not speak in third person here. I thought Sansa might find it weird. :)

Sansa turns startled. A man stands behind her, his hair a dark red shadow cascading around his face. He wore the dark leather of a northern man but he was no northerner. His skin being too dark with a warm tan. He smiles, his eyes alive with subdued mirth.  
"Forgive me" he said smiling "I was looking for a dancing partner. Would you care to dance with me?"  
Sansa stared at the handsome stranger before her.  
"I..I..I don't believe I know how to dance..these dances..their different from what I know" She stammered out. She was so used to being ignored that this invitation to mirth frightened her.  
"It is nothing difficult, and I can teach you" he said. His smile had a warmth that Sansa desperately craved. He removed his leather gloves and slipped them carefully into his pocket. Then reached out his hand to Sansa invitingly.  
Sansa stared at the hand in bewilderment then, realising she was gawking placed her hand in his. His hands where warm and strong and pleasurably smooth.  
"You are cold" he said as her hand met his.  
"I'm fine" said Sansa trying to hide a growing smile.  
Holding her hand in his they walked together away from the tents to a small clearing where people where dancing. The tune was lively one filled with merry shouts and clapping hands.  
"Now" said the man turning toward her. "We hold hands and-"  
"I know this dance" said Sansa looking at the dancing couples. "We go like this" she said stepping a step away and to the right of the man.  
He smiled as she recognized the dance. His smile beaming and showing his teeth.  
"And then we go like this" he said laughing moving to her left.  
"And then we twirl,"  
"And you turn as though you spurn me"  
Sansa laughed a large smile breaking out across her face.  
"Let's dance then" She said.  
They danced and spun through four dances. Laughing and shouting as they turned and twirled. By the fourth tune Sansa cheeks had flushed. Her hair a messy fire dancing on her shoulders.  
"I havn't danced so well in ages" She said as the tune faded away.  
"Neither have I" said he, a little out of breath."Shall we sit?"  
Sansa nodded and sat down at the corner of the clearing under a massive oak. The muscians where getting ready for another song. The stranger sat next to her leaning his back against the trunk of the oak.  
"May I ask, Was that girl behind the tent really from Lorath? It is so far North here she looks quiet out of place."  
"A man goes to trade in Essos and makes his fortune in life. He meets the woman of his dreams and brings her back to his home, like a true northen bear that he is. Quite simple really. The daughter was from another marriage and her mother brought her here with her. The man is dead now though" he said, his smile fading a little as his gaze slowly drifts onto a chattering girl.  
There was a moments silence.  
"And you? Are you the girls real father" Sansa asked. She felt stupid for saying it imedietly though. Fathers never came to find there daughters.  
"No I'm from Braavos, Jaqen H'ghar" He said turning back to her and smiling. He takes her hand in his and gently strokes it.  
"Vera Poole" She says not wanting to use her real title. His smile grew a different attitude, as though he knew she's lying and liked it.  
Gently, he reaches out and strokes her hair and neck lingering over her skin with the back of his hand. "They say that people with red hair are kissed by fire. That they cary around with them luck"  
Sansa smiled sadly remebering Kings Landing and Ramsey Bolton.  
"I wander what being kissed by Ice means." She said bringing her own hand to play with the white streak in his hair.  
He smiled bringing his head down to hers.  
The smell of spices and flowers overflows sansa face. The perfume isn't strong but light and delicate and despite herself Sansa loves it. She trembles, utterly lost in the moment. Her mouth slightly opens breathing softly.  
He shifts his seat to be closer to her. Then gently smiling he brings his lips to hers. They are soft and warm and wet and gently caress her own. She stills and then returns the kiss. Not knowing wether to close her eyes or not she looks up at his. They are a firey blue and encouraging. Sighing softly she kisses him back with kisses like gentle nibbles. Exploring his mouth with her lips and then her tongue. There eyes meet again and sansa blushes her cheeks flushing a sweet red. He brings his hands to either side of her head pulling her to him.  
A soft song dances through the air from far away, and the snow starts to fall. He moves his hands in under her cloak to ceress her shoulders as their kisses become more impassioned. Her hands move from his arms down to his waist and back holding him to her. He breaks away from their kiss for a moment and stares down at Sansa.  
"You're getting cold again, your hands, they are turning purple."  
Sansa shudders realising how cold she has become. The man removes his cloak and enfolds her in it then holds her to him.  
"Stay with me tonight." He says softly.  
She responds with a kiss, gently opening her mouth for his tongue.  
The walk to his tent is slow and careless. They kiss and embrace and laugh not caring for anything or anyone.  
It is a passionate drunkeness that Sansa never felt before as she walks along with the stranger. It frightens her and overjoys her at the same time. There is a wonderful feeling growing in her. At her neck and in her heart and lower. Like an itch and a shock of the heart.  
Reaching his tent they enter together entwind in each others embrace.  
"It's so warm here" says Sansa as the stifling heat of the tent becomes apparent.  
"Forgive me, but you must excuse a Southerner for bringing with him his intolerable warmth." He says as he unbuttens his leather jacket. Underneath he wears a plain white shirt, worn but impecably clean.  
Sansa smiles as she throws of the heavy woollen cloak he had wrapped her in.  
"I only knew of one woman from the far south and she hardly ever mentioned it. Is it so warm?"  
"Beautifully warm. The snows never touch those lands."  
He traces her cheek with his fingers as he stares into her eyes slowly bringing his hand lower and lower. He moves down for a kiss but she steps back a step and smiles. Then reaches down and lifts his shirt up and over his head. He is left standing in his hoes and boots and grinning at her. She stands on her toes and kisses him raptuassly. Her hands trailing along his chest and to his back.  
He breaks off from the kiss this time and works at the buckles of her dress. They are tight and unyeilding but he expertly opens them slowly revealing her shift. Feeling somewhat exposed Sansa slid her hands down his shoulders to his back. He kisses her, her neck, her collarbone and the soft beginings of her breasts.  
The last buckles came undone and the dress came slidding off. Leaving sansa in her shift and boots.  
He went lower undoing the laces of her boots and then removing her socks. He looked back up at her then and kissed her sex through her shift.  
Sansa gasped involuntarily moving away but he held her close kissing her again and again, his hands gently but firmly working their way up her thighs.  
She sunk down unable to bear her own weight and kissed him back on the mouth. Her hands went down trembling to undo the strings of his trousers. It was a messy fumble but with many kisses the trousers open up and he pushed them of himself laughing.  
Then gently he pushed her back and lifted of her shift. She raised her arms but as she felt the bareness of her skin regretted it. He grinned as she sat on her knees naked as her name day. Then he hugged her. The shock of the skin contact made Sansa gasp softly.  
He lifted her up onto him so that her legs wrapped around his back and brought her to the bed.  
It was covered with a fur blanket. Tender and silkie to the touch.  
He lay her down on it kissing and sucking her breasts. She arched her back to his caresses reveling in the feeling that was possessing her body.  
She felt beautiful from her bare and naked toes to her breasts. Her arms fell down to the bed dragging themselves through the soft furs. The man came up to her and kissed her deeply. She smiled as she sucked his tongue and wrapped her legs about his back.  
He groanded in her ear as she felt between his legs. Smiling she turned on him so she was on top. She bent down and kissed him as he entered her. Slowly she moved her hips up and down getting into a delicious rhythm.  
His hands went to her breasts stroking them. She increased her rhythm going faster up and down. The effort made her tremble.  
He stopped her putting his hands firmly on her hips. He wrapped his arms around her neck kissing her violantly and turned so that she fell back upon the bed.  
She trembled as he came back inside her. Her hips moving up to meet his.  
"My love" He said as he lost himself in her.  
She arched her back gasping. Letting the beautiful feeling wash through her.  
They lay there for a moment. Shipwrecked from a sea of pleasure.  
He came back to himself first and came of her, lying down beside her holding her hand.  
She turned her face to him and smiled.  
"Thank you" She said.  
He responded with a kiss. He brought Sansa up to him and kissed her.  
"We should get under the covers" he said softly in her ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it is hard writing a love scene, much harder than I thought. I hope I did those two justice.


	3. The cool morning

"Lady Sansa! Lady Sansa!"  
Sansa woke with a start. Lady Brienne stood outside her tent looking in on her. "Forgive me, my lady but the camp has begun to stir, I thought you would want me to wake you."  
Sansa nodded still half in slumber. Small pieces of the night before begun to form up in her memory.  
She started, opening her eyes and staring around her. Her tent, her bed, her shift dutifully on her.  
"I'll be getting up" said Sansa. "Send Morgan for me please"  
One of her socks had gotten lost amongst the covers but the other sat on her foot. Sansa looked around for some trace, some sign of last night. She had no recolection of how she had gotten into her own bed. Or gotten dressed for that matter.  
Her last memory was of Jaqen hugging her as she lay beside him. It had been so warm. He was softly strocking her skin. Murmuring into her ear. She touched the place on her chest.  
Had it all been a dream?  
She threw of the covers and stared down at herself. She felt clean between her legs. Which was disapointing. However not heartbreaking. She got of her pallete and found her lost sock. She put it on and staigtened up the other one.  
"Issaros" she said to herself as she begun to comb the knots from her hair.  
"Jaqen H'ghar" How did she come up with such a name, it so real.  
"Jaqen H'ghar"  
The whole dream was wonderfully vivid in her mind. She closed her eyes remebering him.  
"M'lady" Said a high pitched voice from behind her. Sansa rolled her eyes.  
"Mogan, Please fetch me some warm water. I'd like to wash a little." she smiled turning her head to look at her brawny squeky maid.

As the warm water touched her skin she shivered. She stood naked in a tub pouring the hot water over herself. It was as warm as he had been. She smiled as her hands trailed down her body. There was a smell, a little spot on her arm that smelt like her dream. She sniffed it and then stared at it. Just a little spot, and no where else.

Having dressed she looked around her tent onnce more. Morgan had gone to empty her tub. The rest would be taken away soon too she thought. They would have to be riding down by noon.  
She walked around the small space in one last hope. And there it was, pressed down under her pillow. She snatched it up carelessly breaking the seal as she did.  
It looked more of a lords letter to another than a lover's. Sansa hastily opened it.  
A small paper fell away from the main scroll. Sansa picked it up.  
"My sweet Vera,  
Please do not mind me for my lies, I loved you for your's. But as you know The Lady Sansa of Winterfell and a man of no name are not the best of couples in the day. We are a strange lot. Best not seen together. I have all the best wishes in the world for you. May you live a good long life and the cold never kiss your cheeks.

Sansa stared at it awhile. "Man with no name?" Not understanding she looked back to the main scroll.  
To Aegon Targaryon King of the Andals and the first men, protector of the realm, from The House of Black and White, the Faceless men.  
She lowered her hand gazing out onto the road.  
She had made love to death itself. And it had been lovely.

**Author's Note:**

> I am studying high Valyrian at the moment but havn't come to the word for stranger yet.  
> I used an online Dictionary for that. But after digging a bit deeper Issaros also seems to be the word for person.  
> This is my first Fanfic and I would love to know what you think so please leave a comment, just don't eat me:). Your opinion matters a great deal to me.


End file.
